


Alone on New Year's Eve

by kirynt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Light Angst, New Year's Eve, Office crush, Pining, References to Love Actually and The Holiday, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-29 05:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirynt/pseuds/kirynt
Summary: “Invite him out for a drink and then, after about twenty minutes, casually drop into the conversation the fact that you'd like to marry him and have lots of sex and babies.” – Harry, Love ActuallyIn which I cast Rey as Sarah and Kylo as Karl in this silly bit of fluff that will probably turn to smut by the end, and which will hopefully be finished in time for 2019. Happy New Year, Reylos!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here I am, trying to shake my horrible writer's block on my angsty other fic by writing fluffy nonsense. Ah well. I hope you're all having a safe and happy holiday season, and are taking care of yourselves wherever you are.
> 
> I dug out an old mood-board I made last year on Tumblr to use as inspo for this fic. I think I'll pop a link in with next chapter, or you can nip over to @kirynt to suss it out. Enjoy!

It was Christmas Eve, and the open-plan Resistacorp office was nearly empty. Phones and keyboards were silent, the usual chatter and bustle of staff having faded over the past few hours as everyone left early for the holidays. They would be closed between Christmas and New Year as so many of their clients were, and (according to CEO Leia Organa) everyone deserved the break after an extremely busy year. Rey couldn’t agree more – in fact, she’d been so busy even in this last week or so before Christmas that she was still in the office at 5pm, doggedly trying to finalise and submit her project’s financials at the very last moment she could before the end of the month. She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck, resting her eyes from the glare of the computer monitor in the dim space. She hadn’t noticed, but someone must have flicked out the main lights as they left earlier, perhaps not realising she was still hunched at her desk. Not much longer now and she could lock up the office and head home to get ready for Christmas Day tomorrow at Finn and Rose’s place. Cracking her knuckles, she pressed onward to the sixth tab of her spreadsheet, entering figures and refreshing formulae as she went as quickly as she could.

 

Half an hour later, she was done and all her reporting was filed with Finance. With a sigh and a mental pat on the back for crushing it professionally for an entire year, she shut all her systems down and gave her desk a quick tidy, emptying her water bottle into her ferns to give them a drink before the break and brushing their fronds fondly. As she stood from her desk and could once again see beyond the low partition behind her computer, she noticed the lights still on in one of the offices. _In his office_ , she realised with a quick intake of breath. She slung her backpack on and looked at the office doors, weighing whether or not to wish him a happy holiday or to just disappear out into the cool twilight outside.

 

Kylo Ren was … well. It was hard to describe what he meant to her. Her office crush? Yes, of course. His thick, dark hair; his broad, strong shoulders; his searching, piercing eyes – these were all definitely fodder for her admittedly girlish daydreams. Rey could lose herself for hours in those eyes, whiling away meetings opposite him with imaginings of being swept off her feet, of being carried off into the sunset to live happily ever after. It ran a little deeper than a crush though, Rey had to admit to herself. Infatuation? Perhaps, perhaps not. Love? Perhaps, although she’d never been in love before so had little to compare this to. Whatever its name, her feelings for Kylo were constant and true, lasting the three years they had worked together now. Three years of unsatisfying dates with other men that rarely led anywhere; three years of pining, unrequitedly, waiting for the tiniest of signals from him that he felt even a fraction for her of that which she felt for him.

 

But no such sign ever came. He was unfailingly polite to her, and as far as she could tell she was spared some of the terseness he exhibited toward their co-workers. Hardly the signs of love; besides, he rarely spoke to her. Rey couldn’t help but chalk his behaviour up to him feeling sorry for her. Had he heard from his mother about her ex-foster child status? Or had he somehow divined how she felt about him with those x-ray gazes of his, the ones where she could swear he was looking into her very soul whenever she would catch his eye before blushing and hurriedly lowering her own eyes? And thus, knowing of her pathetic pining, deciding he should feel pity for her?

 

Rey was not a timid person, typically. She couldn’t afford timidity if she wanted to claw her way out of the downward spiral that her childhood had tried to trap her in. She was determined, and clever, and hard-working, yet all of that just seemed to fly out the window around Kylo. Years ago, when she was not yet convinced of his indifference, she would beam at him whenever their joint projects succeeded, make excuses to talk to him, asking him questions in the hope of learning more about her newly-formed office crush. But time wore on, and her friendly (occasionally lightly flirtatious) advances seemed less and less welcomed by Kylo. He would give her sad little smiles, and cut their interactions short. She would one day see him actually flirting with Bazine from Sales, accidentally interrupting them in the break room about six months after she’d met him. Kylo was smirking down at Bazine as she ran her hand up his forearm. Rey backed silently from the room, feeling her ribs constricting inward, squeezing her chest uncomfortably as her eyes watered.

 

That should have been the day that Rey’s heart got the message. He wasn’t interested, and would never be interested in someone like Rey. Rey, with her barely-there curves and tomboy-ish plainness, never wearing more than a coat of mascara and a bit of lip balm, could never compete with what was obviously Kylo’s type – confident, slick, sneering women like Bazine, who were polished and perfumed and pencil-skirted.

 

The crush (or whatever it was) never subsided, which is how she found herself deliberating whether to indulge herself with one last look at his beautiful face for the year. Knowing that she needed to move past this, and as hopelessly unable to as ever, she turned her steps toward the light in his office, reaching it and tapping softly on his door.

 

“Yes?” his dark baritone replied from the other side. She pushed his door open and peered around the door-frame. He glanced up from his monitor and his hands stilled over his keyboard.

 

“Sorry to interrupt. I think you’re the last one in the office now, would you mind locking up on your way out if the cleaners aren’t here yet?” Rey offered him a small smile, and was given nothing in return. Kylo remained expressionless behind his desk.

 

“Is that OK?” she tried again, smile slipping away. He seemed to shake himself then – he must have still been lost in whatever he was working on, she realised. Feeling embarrassed for intruding, she turned to leave, wishing him a feeble _merry Christmas_ as she did.

 

“Rey, wait,” he croaked, and she paused once more in the doorway, looking back at Kylo still sitting behind his desk. He was clearing his throat now but still hadn’t quite lost his dazed look. She cocked her head in question at him.

 

“Do you … are you doing much over the holiday break?” he asked, fumbling slightly over his words as – God help her – he loosened his tie and popped his top shirt button open, clearing his throat again and running a hand through his perfect hair.

 

Rey was surprised by his question, and by his lack of usual composure as well. Puzzled by his sudden interest in her, she quickly and honestly replied. “Just Christmas at Finn and Rose’s tomorrow, which will be lovely, then deep cleaning my apartment, then spending New Year’s Eve on the couch watching _Love, Actually_ on repeat with a bottle of merlot, feeling sorry for myself. So, just the usual, really.” She tried to give him a wry smile, although she could feel herself flushing with how pathetic she must have sounded.

 

“That’s what you usually do on New Year’s Eve? Spend it alone?” Kylo asked, his eyes burning into hers. Her breath caught at the intensity of his look and she cursed him for choosing to focus on the one part of her answer that was most related to him.

 

“Yes, I prefer to be alone. There’s nothing worse than being out amongst it on one of the most romantic evenings of the year, facing down your impending spinsterhood.” Rey cringed at how down she sounded; she had meant it as a light-hearted jab at her own single-dom but she was starting to sound far more bitter about her circumstances than she actually was. She wasn’t bitter, just … resigned. “Wow, I am talking too much. I’m sorry, have a happy holiday break, Kylo. I’m going to go. Bye.” She couldn’t meet his eye as she turned quickly to flee his office. How had this gone so horribly, what had she been thinking? If he didn’t already pity her, he certainly would now.

 

If she had looked back, she would have seen Kylo Ren filling the doorway to his office with his large frame, hand in his hair again as he stared unhappily after her, lips forming what she might have realised was _You’re not alone_ in a breathless whisper at her retreating form.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter, accompanied by what at this point may as well be my house words: "better late than never." Hopefully we're all still feeling new years-y enough to stick with a NYE fic well past its seasonal relevance?

Christmas with the Ticos and their friends was wonderful, as always. Finn had also grown up as the ward of the state, and had been happy to leave his state-issued surname behind him when he and Rose had married. He seemed to go out of his way each year to ensure that everyone in attendance had the _most_ wonderful time – there were gifts for everyone, happy carols to be sung (loudly, and progressively less in tune as the day wore on), and enough food to feed a literal battalion. It was warm, it was cosy, it was joyful. As Rey found herself enveloped in a goodbye-hug by both Finn and Rose at once when she took her leave in the evening, she felt loved.

 

The trip home was not long – Rey lived only a few blocks from the Ticos – and she didn’t dawdle, not with the chilly Christmas air whipping about her face. With each step, she left the party behind, and her thoughts turned to her empty apartment. The only thing that could have made her Christmas any more perfect was to have someone traipsing home beside her, large gloved hand around her be-mittened one, ready to bundle her up in their arms when they arrived home, to share hot chocolate and to snuggle with on the sofa. The _someone_ of her daydream was, of course, Kylo Ren. She flexed her empty hand as if chasing the ghost of his larger one away.

 

As she crossed an empty street, Rey chided herself. Three years was long enough. Maybe it was a week too early for a New Year’s resolution, but this had to stop. Three years of pining, of no one else ever being quite right for her. She couldn’t have even articulated exactly why she felt so strongly about Kylo, that was the strange part. She didn’t know what his favourite food was, or how he felt about Tolkien, or what he was allergic to. Maybe he didn’t want kids, and she did. Maybe he hated to travel, and would laugh derisively at all the Pinterest boards she kept of the places she wanted to visit someday. All Rey knew was that her heart reached out for his in a way it never had for anyone else.

 

 _Three years_ , she thought again as she let herself into her apartment, dropping her keys onto her console table, hanging up her scarf and coat and toeing off her boots. She left her tote bag full of gifts on her little kitchen table and drifted, tired, toward her bedroom, turning up the heat a bit as she went. She stripped down to her underwear, too tired even to shower after a long day, and grabbed a thermal shirt from the back of her desk chair. Slipping the shirt on and climbing under the covers, she could only resolve once more before sleep took her. _Three years. Enough. No more._

***

 

Even though she no longer lived in the UK (and hadn’t for all of her adult life), Rey still always felt that she should honour Boxing Day. Not in a traditional sense of charitable giving, or of a modern sense of hitting the shops and sales; more like a second day of Christmas. A day to relax and to be kind to yourself after the excesses of Christmas Day itself. It was in that spirit that she slept until 10am, before emerging from the warmth of her bed to wrap herself in her winter dressing gown and toddle into the kitchen to make herself a full English. The smell of sizzling bacon and sausage began to fill the flat as she hummed softly.

 

Her reverie was interrupted by sharp knocking at her front door, which startled her so much she almost dropped the spoon she’d been using to stir the beans in their pot. Turning everything on the stove down to low, she shuffled to her door, fully prepared to find some lost person looking for an upstairs neighbour. Tucking her robe around her a little more tightly, she peered through her door’s peep-hole to see a very well-kempt courier waiting with a smallish package. This was odd. Rey wracked her still somewhat sleep-addled mind to think if she’d been waiting on any orders as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Good morning, ma’am,” greeted the courier. Rey squinted at his nametag, which read _Dopheld_.

 

“Good morning to you, too. Are you lost? Can I help with directions?” Rey asked.

 

“No, ma’am, not lost at all. Can I please confirm that you are Rey Johnson?”

 

“What?” At this, Rey straightened up, the last vestiges of her drowsiness falling away.

 

“Are you Rey Johnson, ma’am?” he repeated, patiently and with a hint of a smile.

 

“Well, yes I am, but I’m not expecting any deliveries so you must have made a mistake. There’s a Rachael Johnstone up on the tenth floor, our mail gets mixed up quite often …” she trailed off as Dopheld shook his head.

 

“No mistake, ma’am. I was advised that you weren’t expecting the delivery and might be confused. I can confirm this is definitely yours, and that it is a gift.” He kept the little boxed package firmly grasped in one hand as he unclipped his small tablet device from his belt. After a couple of taps, he was handing the tablet to Rey. “Sign here please, Ms Johnson.”

 

Rey could do nothing but blink owlishly as he held the tablet out to her. A gift? That didn’t make any sense. They’d given gifts yesterday at Friendmas, had someone forgotten her? She didn’t think so, and she didn’t think any of her friends would be so extra as to send her something by fancy courier on Boxing Day.

 

“I’m sorry, is it Dop-held? Did I pronounce that right?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded and beamed at her.

 

“I just don’t know anyone who would send a gift like this, and I don’t think I should accept it. I’m very sorry,” she apologised.

 

“I’m sorry, too, ma’am. I am under strict instructions to see that you not only accept it, but that you open it and read the message that comes along with it. Please sign here, Ms Johnson,” he repeated, extending the tablet to her once more.

 

“Oh, alright,” Rey mused. A sudden thought of some sort of silly post-holiday prank from Paige or Poe had occurred to her. There was probably glitter or something similar inside the box, and poor Dopheld was probably going to film her opening it for their enjoyment. She huffed with amusement, pleased that she hadn’t showered yet this morning as she was sure whatever exploded out of the box was going to be messy. Shaking her head and thinking of getting back to the warm bacon in her kitchen, she took the courier’s tablet and signed her name. She handed the device back and Dopheld clipped it back onto his belt.

 

“Thank you, ma’am. I know this is a little unusual, but my client insisted.” He carefully handed her the plain white cardboard box. Rey gave him an understanding smile.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, I think I know who this is from,” she explained to him as she started to tentatively open the box, bracing herself for a mouthful of silly string, “I’m sure this is my friends’ idea of funny.” She slipped her fingers inside, but could only feel very silky tissue paper around what seemed to be a smaller box.

 

“I think you’re on the wrong track there, ma’am.” Dopheld’s smile was still in place as he encouraged her with a nod to keep opening her gift.

 

Rey gently pulled the outer box away, tucking it into the crook of her elbow, as she unfolded the tissue from around the inner box. When the paper had fallen away, she was left with a dark red jewellery box with a little gold button and a light band of gold filigree around its edges. She could only stare, uncomprehending at the box – not as instantly recognisable perhaps as the duck-egg blue of a Tiffany’s box, but she was pretty sure she was looking at Cartier jewellery. What was happening?

 

She looked up at Dopheld, whose smile was now starting to seem a little worried. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

 

Her hands had started to shake a little, and her face felt warm as she pressed the tiny button to pop the case open. Rey gasped as she brought the gift closer to her face. Inside were earrings. Delicate, gorgeous, tear-drop earrings of silver, inset with what could only be diamonds, winking at her with every tremble of her hands.

 

“And here is your message,” Dopheld held out his hand to her again, this time with a cream envelope. Rey could only stare as the courier carefully took the earrings from her and closed the little box with a soft snick. “Why don’t I hold these while you read this?” He pressed the missive into her still-outstretched hands.

 

The envelope was textured and lovely under her fingertips. _For Rey_ was written in a beautiful script on the front in black ink. This was without a doubt the strangest thing that had ever happened to her; strange, and strangely wonderful. Someone had bought her diamond jewellery. Her mind was whirring as she opened the envelope and slipped out a card that matched the creaminess and texture of the envelope.

 

 _Dearest Rey_ , it read. She sucked in a ragged breath. She was someone’s dearest.

 

_You don’t have to be alone, not anymore._

_Merry Christmas._

There was no name, no signature. For a brief and foolish moment, she flipped the envelope to see if there might be a return address, but there was nothing. Who would send her something like this but not their name?

 

“Definitely for Rey Johnson, hmm?”

 

Rey had completely forgotten there was another person standing with her in the hall. She clutched her message to her as Dopheld gave her back the jewellery box, and she nodded mutely.

 

“A very merry Christmas to you, ma’am. I’ll be on my way now, but you have a great day!” He turned and walked off toward the lift at the other end of the floor.

 

Rey recovered her voice as she stuttered after him, “Wh-who sent this? Is there a sender, a name, anything?”

 

Dopheld the courier pressed the lift button and turned back to her, polite smile still firmly in place. “I’m sure all will be revealed in time.” The lift pinged, the doors slid open, and he stepped inside and out of Rey’s sight.

 

***

 

Rey could barely finish her breakfast, which – for her – was drastic. She’d gingerly set the letter and jewellery box on her kitchen table, choosing instead to eat her breakfast standing at her kitchen counter, facing the table, watching the envelope and red case as if they might suddenly explode, or vanish, or start tap-dancing across her tablecloth.

 

When none of those things happened after more than half an hour of staring, she picked them up and took them with her to her bedroom, ditching her robe and snuggling herself back under the blankets with box and letter in hand. She opened the envelope again and slid the card out to read it.

 

 _Dearest Rey_ ,

 

_You don’t have to be alone, not anymore._

_Merry Christmas._

 

She still couldn’t quite process the thought of the diamond earrings, so the box remained closed but clutched tightly in her hand while she mulled over the message. Something about it teased at her; there was a connection she wasn’t making, a familiarity to the beautiful handwriting and its sentiment that she knew she had seen and felt before. But where? When?

 

It couldn’t be from any of her friends. None of them had this sort of cash to spend. Besides, the tone of this gift was decidedly romantic, she thought. Even if she knew one of her friends were lonely over Christmas, she would never send them diamond jewellery. Maybe from a client, then? Certainly, many of the accounts she worked on belonged to wealthy men and women, perhaps she’d mentioned to one of them that she’d be spending this time alo-

 

 _Oh_. Alone. Their conversation on Christmas Eve, where she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, when she told him how she’d be alone as always. Rey’s face flushed as she stared at the letter, the neat calligraphy stark against the pristine background of the cardstock. She’d promised herself to let him go. Kylo Ren had never shown a jot of romantic interest in her. Although her rational brain couldn’t believe it would be from him, her traitorous heart whispered to her that maybe she hadn’t been alone in this … _thing_ for three years. Maybe Kylo had been in it, too – the piercing stares and deep murmurs he gave her not actually symptomatic of his sympathy or disdain, but of something else entirely. Maybe that was why she could never quite let him go.

 

Rey dozed off with the card and earrings in bed with her, tired suddenly from the strangeness of the morning, half in agonising hope that her gift might be from him, half in dread that it might not.


End file.
